A Long Night's Beginning
by Legion117
Summary: Seeking a cure for the plague afflicting his wife and daughter, a man named Viktor journeys to Yharnam, home of blood ministration, unaware of the city's dark secrets. A one shot story (introduction) that I wrote with a friend of mine two years ago for a potential novel. I might continue this, but it is meant to stand alone. Rated M for violence and language. Enjoy.
1. A City of Beasts

"Are ye ready then mate?" a raspy voice, like flint scraping steel, speaks to me. Its owner shakes me when I don't respond and asks again, "Oi, you still got yer wits about ye? Hello?! The clock's ticking lad and time ain't on our side. You've seen the moon, have ye not? The beasts are out tonight and it's time for us to do our part."

I push through the fog enveloping my mind. I'm thinking to myself, am I really going to do this? These people are my friends, some of them like family. No, no, no, I can't afford to be thinking about them like that. The creatures roaming the streets this eve could hardly be considered human anymore. Blood has maddened them, changed them into something unnatural. As if confirming my thoughts, there comes a loud scratching sound from out on the street. _Something_ is dragging its claws along the oak wood door in front of us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I can feel beads of sweat running down my forehead.

"Oh, she's an ugly one there she is; will ya look at the teeth on her..." the man speaks again, peering out through the window. The scratching grows louder, more menacing, as though the creature's efforts were emboldened by the insult.

I shakily begin to load my blunderbuss with the quicksilver rounds I've been handed. For all the weapons developed in mankind's history, those imbued with silver had always proven most effective against the evils lurking beyond the lamp light. Halfway through the process, the scratching stops. I pause, waiting for a few seconds to see if it will resume. Utter silence pleasantly assails my ears and the tension in my bones melts away. I feel almost as though I may collapse from relief. The elder man however, turns a wary eye to me.

"Don't count your blessings yet boy-o, the devil doesn't give up his due so easily. If I were you, I'd finish reloading that piece." A few breaths later there is a loud creaking, that of wood straining to hold its form. Then comes a crash and a huge creature plows through the doorway, shattering the once mighty barrier. It snarls at us, revealing a hideous maw, filled with rotting teeth.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I fumble with the locking mechanism of my weapon, backing away.

The elder man steadily draws forth his sword and dagger. His experience outweighs my own more obviously with each passing instant. "Easy there lad, don't panic. These things can smell fear, and it gets their blood up."

The creature sniffs the air and turns to me. It makes a strange gurgling noise and licks its lips. Someone is hungry. _Oh God, oh God, oh God._ A low growl escapes the monster's lips and it starts towards me, bounding over the furniture. My heart pounds like a bass drum. I pull the weapon up to my shoulder and aim. I swallow hard. The beast seems to smile at me, as if amused by my terror. It howls and leaps over the settee to pounce on me.

"STAY BACK!" I close my eyes and squeeze the trigger. There is a thunderous explosion which shakes my eardrums, and the sensation of something wet splashes across my face. I wait for a moment, trembling, before daring to open my eyes.

The beast has fallen to the ground, a gaping hole in the side of its head. Blood and brain matter drip down from the ceiling.

The older man starts laughing. "Ha ha, lovely shot mate. Blasted that ruddy bastard to kingdom come ye did! I thought you were a dead man there for a moment. Right smart of ye to have picked up that piece. Good onya!"

"Th—thanks I guess..."

He saunters over to me. "The name's Samuel Cochran, but my mates call me Sam." the man says as he extends a long, boney arm.

"H-hello, my name's Riktor, Riktor Farenck." I take the proffered hand and shake it.

Samuel grins broadly. "It's a pleasure Riktor; glorious to be doin' business with ye. Now then, what do ye say we get the hell out of here? It's not a good idea to stay in one place for too long when the beasts roam the alleys. We'd best be joinin' up with Ol' George Archer's party if we want to see morning. The more warm bodies we surround ourselves with, the better our chances." The beasts are not deterred by numbers, but more guns, more blades, and more fire is bound to give them something to think about.

"How are we going find him?" I ask as we step past the corpse and out into the darkness.

"Heh, shouldn't be too hard, just need to follow the blood and the bodies. He's bound to have left plenty of both behind him."

Even here, uncountable blocks outside the city proper, I can hear the sounds of carnage. The air tastes of sulfur and the smell of burning flesh, charred on a great multitude of pyres, assails my nostrils. It is not what I'd expected to find. So many tales of greatness flowed from this place, so much hope, but the truth is far darker. My nights are sleepless and my days are spent in fear of the setting sun. Here I am, hunting monsters in a cursed city. I was led here by the promise of salvation, only to wind up arse deep in the middle of a bleeding nightmare. A nightmare...yes, that's what this is. That's what it _has_ to be.

 **Three Days Earlier...**

The moon hung low between the clouds looming over the valley. Like some sort of guiding beacon, it beckoned to me, calling out like some long lost friend. I could almost hear a voice whispering in my ear. _Welcome home..._ The carriage hit a bump in the road and ended my reverie.

"Oi, sorry about that; you alright back there?" the driver called out.

"Yeah, no worries I'm fine. Just caught me a bit off guard is all. By the way, about how much farther is it?" I spoke loudly so as to be heard over the sound of clattering hooves and rattling wheels.

"About ten or twenty minutes I'd wager. It's a little hard to tell with all the clouds constantly going back in front of the moon, but it shouldn't be long now." The driver said. "If ya don't mind me askin' what brings you out this way in the first place?"

"Personal business..."

"You don't look much like a hunter, are you one of those prospectors, or maybe a medical student?"

"My task isn't so easily explained."

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint. I was just trying to make conversation." He grumbled. The rest of the ride carried on smoothly and in silence. My journey had already been long and I was eager to see it completed. As we rolled along, my thoughts drifted back to the reason that I was making pilgrimage to the great city. They drifted back to my beloved Eliza and our little Helen. They just needed to hold on for a few more days, maybe a week at most. There were whispers that the city held the answers I sought, and a cure for whatever malady ailed my wife and daughter. If such a cure existed, it would be here, in the hands of the Church. I was again torn from my thoughts as the coach lurched to a sudden halt, throwing me to the floor.

"We've arrived." The driver said in monotone.

I stood up and brushed myself off, deciding to ignore the rough stop. I slung my pack over my shoulder and opened the carriage door. I stepped down and into a puddle of mud. My boots sunk about a dozen centimeters into the muck.

"You picked a real lovely place to stop mate." I muttered under my breath. Much deeper and It would've gotten down inside my footwear. Still, I guess I couldn't rightly complain. No one else was willing to drive me out this way. He'd quickly and safely gotten me here; that was what mattered. I looked up and attempted to get my bearings. I discovered that we were in the middle of a small village. Perhaps I was entitled to a little bit of whinging. I stepped up to where the driver sat and glared at him.

"What the hell is this? You _promised_ to take me to the city. Where are...we?" I stopped when I caught sight of a mammoth cathedral rising into the sky. Massive, ornate spires stabbed into the night around it. Great structures billowed clouds of black smoke in the distance. On the air there was a distinct and familiar scent of iron. The smell of blood; I knew it well.

"Welcome to Yharnam; home of the Healing Church and the Blood Ministration. The road is too muddy for me to go any further, and I doubt the horses would want to anyway. Sorry to say it gov, but yer hoofin' it from here!" the driver spoke, spitting a wad of tobacco into the damp ground. "Best of luck mate, you're going to need it."

"What do you mean by that?" I inquired of him. The driver brought his team of horses around before turning to me.

"Let's just say that a man hears a thing or two about this city in his life that makes him think twice about seeking the help of anyone from the church. I'd also try and spend as little time walking the streets after dark as possible." He flicked the reins and the coach started pulling away.

"Hey, wait a minute! What things are you talking about?!" He didn't answer me. The carriage flew off into the gathering gloom of evening, the sound of galloping horses slowly fading away. I glanced around the village square where he'd left me. Amidst the darkened homes and the glow of gas lamps, I was alone. I looked up at a sign in the center of town. _Welcome to the Hamlet of Aldus, Yharnam City Limits, 3.2 Miles._ "I guess I better get walking then eh? 'The road is too muddy for me to go any further'; what a bunch of bollocks." So much for making it to town before night sets in. A smart man would've taken that as reason to put himself up at an inn for the night, but I hadn't the luxury of time. The longer I was away, the greater the chance that the infection might spread.

Despite any concerns that were aroused by the coachman's statements, or any reservations I might have already had, my mission had me going to the heart of the city. No clergyman, rapscallion, ne'er-do-well, or anyone else would keep me at bay. I was even ready to spill blood if it came to that. Swordplay and marksmanship had never been my forte, so swiftness would need to be my ally.

With a match, I gave life to the lantern hanging at my hip to guide me. I uttered a prayer to the divine and left the quiet village in my wake. As I set off down the long road, the moon revealed itself from behind the curtain of the sky once again. Cold light splashed over my surroundings and the denizens of dusk chattered away in their burrows. A chilling breeze came through and pulled at the folds of my greatcoat. I couldn't help but wonder what the carriage driver had meant in regards to Yharnam and the Healing Church. In the end though, it didn't much matter what the wankstain had said. I'd come this far, and I wasn't leaving until I had the vaccination for the plague, or at least knew where else to find one. I had to do at least that much, for my family's sake. I steeled my resolve, so that I might see this journey through to the end, no matter the cost.

Still, with each step that I took towards that city, I could not shake a great sense of foreboding and the impression that something was very, very wrong.

 _There is an old saying among the people of the land that those who make pilgrimage to Yharnam might find respite from their afflictions. Yet even in such things, the greed of men spreads like a taint. Indulgence has festered in their hearts, transforming them into something which no priest or cleric can cleanse. Purification comes through flame and by flame alone may they escape damnation. So goes the adage: "We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood…"_

 ** _"_** ** _Fear the old blood."_**


	2. The Doctor

The room is dark, musty, and smells acutely of rot. Kerosene lanterns hang at intervals from the ceiling, providing some scant illumination. I can hear groans and intermittent coughs in the background. They are agonized sounds, uttered by those edging ever closer to death. Doctor Benjamin Gates is tired and weary. How long has he been working now, four nights, five, six? He is too old to be sleeping so little. Even in his youth, he never had to deal with a catastrophe such as this. The number of patients keeps increasing and he's running out of medicine to give them.

"I'm not going to bother with niceties. As ye can see, everyone here is hanging on by a thread." With a ragged cloth he wipes the sweat from his furrowed brow and sighs. "Viktor, I just don't have anything more to give ye."

Viktor Farenck stands a few feet away from the doctor. Less than half the physicians age, but just as ragged, the last vestiges of light disappear from his eyes at the old man's words.

"Please spare me the disappointed expression, lad. Ten people died in the other room last night and a good twenty more may follow by sunrise."

"So that's it then…" Viktor says quietly. "Isabelle and Anna are going to die?"

"It's a blood disease boy, and the city has a hundred new cases every day. All the hospitals are full to bursting, every clinic is overflowing; plague doctors are out burning bodies en masse. At this rate, regardless of your wife and daughter, thousands of people might be dead by month's end."

"There's nothing I can do?"

Dr. Gates rubs his eyes. "Keep giving them that herbal tonic I showed ye and make sure they're comfortable. Enjoy the time ye still have with them. Ye won't find anything further around here."

"Around here…what do you mean?"

"Lad, I told ye we don't have—"

"You said that I wouldn't find anything else _around here._ Are you saying that somewhere else I might?"

"The nearest city with any doctors who've treated blood disease is Glasen, and that's five hundred miles south. There's no other safe place for treatment, but your family would be dead before ye made it back."

"No _safe_ place…" Viktor wondered aloud. "And say that I didn't care whether a place was safe or not, what then?"

A darkness crept into Benjamin's eyes. "…Some questions shouldn't be asked."

He took several steps forward. "You aren't from here originally, doctor. People say that you learned your craft beyond the border."

"Tis naught a place for the likes of ye. Not for the likes of any man who values his sanity."

"You're from the great city aren't you?"

The doctor spat on the floor. "A great city of bastards and abominations. I'd sooner die than set foot through its blighted gate again." He deeply wished that all men felt the same as he.

"Are the stories true? Does Yharnam possess the knowledge to cure blood illnesses?"

He swiftly rebuked Viktor. "There's a great number of true stories about what the people of Yharnam do with **blood** , boy. Ye'd do well to listen to them."

"Doctor," he pleaded. "I don't care what it costs; if I can spare my wife and daughter, I'll do anything, face anything."

"Your life, your humanity, your soul even?"

"Aye, Ben, everything, as long as I can find a cure."

He felt every ounce of desperation in Viktor's voice. That look in a man's eyes when even damnation was no deterrent. Benjamin Gates had seen it so many times over his years on this earth. When he came to the city of Dunsen, men and women alike inquired about the _blessings_ one could find in Yharnam, and he reluctantly told them. So, he moved farther away, to Renswick, where still, they asked him. It was the same in Valshire, Kellingswood, and Thamesburg after that. Few of those people returned, and none of those that did were the same. Benjamin kept going until he reached Erundale, a place that'd remained untouched by the blood and its madness. And here he'd stayed for nigh on eighteen years, with none asking him questions which he begged not to answer.

Yet, when the plague came, he knew deep down that it was only a matter of time. Mayhaps it was his nature as a physician that made him divulge the information to those yearning for reprieve? Although he had a sneaking suspicion that the truth was simply that Yharnam refused to leave its' wayward children in peace. The city was a machine which constantly hungered for new flesh; those fortunate enough to escape it were fated to send others to satiate that abominable appetite. And Benjamin knew that, when he came to stand in judgment before the gods, he'd answer for committing such a vile sin. Today would just add another name to the long list of those who his words had condemned.

"Alright then, lad," he said at length. "I can tell that ye won't be swayed. If ye truly seek a cure, then Yharnam will provide." Assuming there were still a few decent souls remaining in that place to serve Viktor's request. "Three hundred miles to the northwest, across the lowlands and past the Beinn Corragh, follow the Hadrin road and ye'll find her gates. Make your way into Old Towne," he scribbled a few words on a piece of paper. "There's a clinic there, run by an auld friend o' mine, Allen an' his wife, Mary. If they've kept up shop, they'll have what ye need."

Viktor paused once he'd taken the piece of paper in his hands. "Ben, I don't know how to thank you enough for this…"

"Bah! Don't thank me for such a thing! I wish I could forget about the damnable place so young fools like ye wouldn't go searching where men were better off not."

"I'll come back, with enough medicine to cleanse the outbreak, you'll see."

"Idealism will only get ye so far," he shook his head, reminded of himself as a young man. Better men than he or Viktor had fallen to the predations of Yharnam's darkness. "Still, I'll be offerin' up a prayer or two for your sake." Benjamin opened up a drawer in his desk and withdrew a leather pouch and a drawstring bag from within. He thrust both items into Viktor's hands. "These should help ye as well."

"What are they?" He undid the clasp on the leather pouch and opened the flap, revealing ten glass syringes full of red liquid.

"Blood vials, lad, a special kind that was concocted in Yharnam years ago. If you're cut, scratched, bitten by anything, jab one of these into ye and ye'll be right as rain. The little bag has some coins in it, local currency I mean. They'll do ye more good than they will me."

"Again, tha—"

Benjamin cut him off. "I'll have none of that. Bad enough you're going at all; the least I can do is offer a few things that might see you through some of it. I'd also be packing a pistol and a cutlass if I were ye."

"A blade I understand, but surely that'd be enough to ward off the greedy scoundrels skulking about the alleyways?"

"There's many a thing worse than a man prowling the streets of Yharnam, lad."

Viktor gave him a puzzle look, but nodded before gathering up his things. The two men exchanged a few more pleasant words and then the younger was gone. Benjamin Gates was alone with his thoughts and exhaustion.

He glances over at the decanter of whiskey on his side table. He'd been sustaining himself on glasses of the stuff during these lengthy nights in the clinic, when it seemed like the dawn was forever away. The clock on his shelf shows the time as 1:49PM, but he cannot be certain of its' accuracy; he hasn't wound the movement in three days.

Beyond the confines of his office, the soft groans and intermittent coughing are still there, although it seems as though there are a few less now. _More for the undertakers to throw on the pyre._ He reaches into his desk again, far back in the drawer this time. His hand brushes against a large vial and he pulls it out into the light. A fine layer of dust covers the vial, a hallmark of its' age. It has been kept hidden away and undisturbed these many years. Tonight, Benjamin feels as though alcohol won't soothe him. No, he needs something more potent.

He gingerly pulls the stopper out and places the vial under his nose. He inhales deeply, the scent just as pungent as the day it'd been harvested. The aroma is still so profoundly intoxicating, and the anticoagulants had kept it in a perfectly liquid state. He licks his lips.

"In the end, I suppose, that city makes beasts of us all." As he tipped the vial back, letting the blood run down his throat, he longed for the day when someone would put the vile place to the torch.


End file.
